Dreams. Not the kind as vital to our being in the way they pulsate through our bodies to power every physical movement and mental intent. Dreams, as in the mental playground or prison we often find ourselves in once the sunset of eyelids take place for the day.
Do they serve to punish, reward or remind ? I’ve been wondering this for years now and have woken to many in concise and often conflicting answers.
Last nights dream saw everything playing out to the story tale script i keep rolled up in the back of my mind. Words were exchanged, apologies said, passion reignited. The worst about these types of dreams is they only serve to reverse the roles, and that you’re waking up to what is now seen as a nightmare in an unfair comparison.
As the break of day light burns the very scene your imagination has fabricated, it’s very easy to let the ashes leave a stain on your day. Rather this time I swept them aside off the marble of my mind, as routine as keeping a well kept house. There was a final glace before I threw them out, looking at them as the reminder I‘m still able to feel, regardless if it’s ‘real’ or not.
Since venturing out I have learned, where you stay may change, but where you live will always be your in your mind. Take care of it, expect visitors and respect your time alone.
